


Rest

by Kamikaze_Embers



Category: Food Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Gay, M/M, Short & Sweet, Sleeping Together, Sleepy Cuddles, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 18:39:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15668991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamikaze_Embers/pseuds/Kamikaze_Embers
Summary: Sometimes, one needs to rest.





	Rest

Opening his eyes, B-52 sits up, grumbling as the mechanical gears begin to start running. It's been such a long time, yet he can't get used to the feeling. Standing, he yawns quietly and sets off for his tasks.

The other day, they'd gone out on a mission. Halfway through, it had started raining. Being part machine, he did not like rain at all. It got between his gears, making him feel rusted and stiff. He stretches his wings, wincing at the sudden pain that shoots through his circuit.

“You should rest a bit. You look hurt.” A gentle voice murmurs from behind him. Turning around, he pauses his work.

Standing behind him is a fairly shorter person. His hair is a deep brown color, the ends a faded blue. His hat is tilted distinctively to the right, held by a pale red ribbon. His attire is formal- a dark gray vest, an off-white dress shirt, gray-ish jeans and white gloves. His eyes are a striking blue that stand out against his light tan skin.

“Ah. Brownie. Yes, I should get some rest. But, could you help me with something?” He asks softly. The shorter male nods.

“It's maintenance, isn't it? We were fighting in the rain for quite some time.” Brownie notes, putting a finger against his cheek.

“Come on. I'll see what I can do to help you.”

Walking in, everything is just about what one would expect from a food soul called Brownie- the place is impossible neat and tidy, all in shades of brown ranging from soft tan colors to deep, dark browns. Sitting on the edge of the bed, B-52 watches as Brownie walks about the room, gathering what he'll need.

“This might sting a bit. Tell me if it gets too painful and we'll take a break.” He explains, slowly parting the wings to get a better look. B-52 simply bites his lip, bracing himself for the inevitable stinging pain.

Trailing his fingers through the almost-white blonde hair, Brownie can't help but admire the other. The mechanical wings, of course, always catch his eye first, but there's so much more to him beyond that.

His eyes are ice blue against pitch black, a striking contrast that leaves him speechless. His skin is pale, soft and surprisingly warm. His hair is soft and light, perfect for running his fingers through. The metal arm is cold, but sometimes Brownie likes to hold onto it and feel the fingers curl around his own. There are all sorts of gears and mechanics, but he barely notices that.

Perhaps that's why he gets so upset when others call him a fighting machine. 

Because he's not just that at all. He's just as much a food soul as Brownie. As any of them, really. 

The thoughts run through his head as he works, occasionally pausing. He does want to finish this soon- if his parts are tampered with for too long, B-52 will end up with a headache. But he still takes the breaks, only continuing when the mechanical food soul gives him the okay.

“There, there. Where else do you feel rusted and stiff?” Brownie asks in a soft whisper, attempting to distract him from the pain with gentle kisses on the cheek.

B-52 shakes his head. “Everything is much better now. Thank you, Brownie.”

At last, he's done. Putting away the materials, Brownie wipes his hands with a small towel he keeps on his desk. Turning back, he notices that B-52 has his metal hand pressed against his forehead.

“Headache?” Brownie asks. The other nods. “I'm sorry. Here, why don't you lay down for a while? Get some rest.” He offers, carefully lifting a corner of the blanket just enough for the taller male to fit under without messing up the bed too much.

B-52 quickly slips under it and begins to drift asleep. Brownie turns to leave.

“Hey, Brownie…Please stay here?”

Brownie's eyes widen, but he does, walking back to the bed. He lays down next to him and brushes the pale blonde hair from his face.

“Of course. We both could use some rest, it seems.” He whispers.

B-52 smiles and closes his eyes as Brownie slowly wraps his arms around him comfortingly.

“Sweet dreams.”


End file.
